


Firelight

by Soul4Sale



Series: Taming of Bears [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Nanny!William, Possible abuse of Thomas' accent, Vague songfic style, William Johnson POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:30:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soul4Sale/pseuds/Soul4Sale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It sometimes surprises me how Thomas has these moments of brilliance, amidst the general drunken stupor. What surprises me a tad bit more is the fact that I tend to enjoy his company most when he gets like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firelight

**Author's Note:**

> So... I've started work on the main stories for the Taming of Bears series, but this just needed to be written today. It's sort of a Slice-Of-Life fic, set before Connor's birth. Oh, William, I don't think Thomas will ever understand...
> 
> Anyway, I was also sad that there's so LITTLE for Thomas. He's like, my favorite Templar EVER. Soyeah. Here we go~

It sometimes surprises me how Thomas has these moments of brilliance, amidst the general drunken stupor. What surprises me a tad bit more is the fact that I tend to enjoy his company most when he gets like this.

_-X-X-X-_   
**Earlier**   
_-X-X-X-_

“Liam!” Thomas had called, very quickly putting a stop to my work as he startled me into drawing a line over the entirety of the page I was working on. Holding back a snarl, for it would be lost on him in this state, I turn just in time for him to decide my chair looks comfortable, and he'll sit in it despite my presence. “Got summin' t'show ye.” He nearly purrs, and I feel my anger slipping away, if only minutely. The way he just looks so pleased with himself, as per usual, is enough to set me back to the usual bout of indifference.

“And what is that, hm?” I question, patience filling my voice, and I can't help but notice how flimsily he tries to hide his grin.

“Well, yanno 'ow fockin' _Master Kenway_ ,” He sits up straight and makes a show with his hands, more accurately adding to his talent of making things that are meant to be respectful sound the exact opposite, “Wants us t'like... Take o'er th'damn place...?” 

“...something like that, yes.” Now, I'm a little skeptical.

“I found a way t'do 't, an' ain't nobody gotta suffer t'much.” The way he grins, now, is almost too much, and if he weren't sitting on me, I'd likely be on the floor. However, be it from laughter or sorrow, I can't be sure.

“And how is that, Thomas?” I begin, but he presses a finger to my lips and shakes his scruffy head.

“Lemme 'andle 't. Ye jus' needa come up on the roof af'er dinner, a'right?”

Against my better judgment, I nodded. When he didn't leave my lap, I shoved him, and looked pointedly at the door. I could hear his grumbles and impertinent talk all the way down the hallway, until the bell dinged on the elevator and the grate shut. Even still, it likely carried around the entirety of our hideout; the building was old, and as much as Haytham tried to say it was sturdy, we all had something to worry about in the upper floors.

_-X-X-X-_   
**30 Minutes Ago**   
_-X-X-X-_

Thomas had urged me to eat quicker, bouncing in his seat during dinner. While the young man usually behaved like a child, it was times like these when our colleagues seemed to believe that this was the behavior set up when he would rather _make_ children. The glances I received from John as he excused himself made me realized just what it sounded like; _Hurry up an' finish, we gotta night 'head'a us!; Liam, look, I finished me greens b'fore ye even finished yer meats!;_ , followed abruptly with, _I'll finish it if ye'll jus' 'urry up!_

It even had Haytham eyeing me, to which I finally shook my head and rose from the table. Dinner had been far less peaceful than I liked, but such was life with the child of a 19 year old I was stuck with. Excusing myself like a gentleman, as per usual, I was suddenly dragged off for the elevator, watching as the man-child beside me pressed _every single button_ with his filthy fingers ( _It's more fun if you don't know which floor you're supposed to get off at!_ ). 

Finally, he yanked the grate aside and lead me the rest of the way to.. Stairs. But, these were the few that lead up to the rooftop. We had one of the oldest buildings in the city, sure, but it was still the tallest, with a flat rooftop that was nice for camping (if Thomas' word could be taken as truth and not another challenge to lock Charles out of the hideout, of course). He grins at me when we reach the old, rusted door (that I recall he was meant to paint months ago), and places his hand on the knob.

“Ye rea'y?” He questioned, looking like the cat that had _just about_ caught the mouse he'd been stalking all day.

“Yes, yes. Let's get on with this... If we don't hurry, Ben will refuse me a bedtime snack...” Which I was going to need because I hadn't been allowed to eat much of my dinner. For all of a second, I caught the appropriate amount of sheepishness on his face before it was once again replaced with that self-indulgent grin.

“Feast yer eyes on this!” With that, he threw the door open and tugged me out onto the roof; it was chilly up here, with the wind having nothing else to block it, but in a second I could see what he did.

From way up here, the street lights, neon signs, and search lights could have been a thousand miles of fire. I could understand, now, what he'd meant... To him, Haytham's idea of 'taking over everything' involved fires and pillaging, as though we were nothing more than barbarians with an idea for the future. He swaggered over to the edge of the rooftop and sat down, gazing out over the city, and for once I thought he actually looked like he was focused on something.

Eyes half-lidded, lips parted, hat held by one hand and the other pressed into his thigh... His profile with the burning lights behind him was shockingly regal; until he turned another shit-eating grin on me.

“'S perfect, righ'?” 

“...yes, Thomas... It is.” I concede, and he pats the concrete beside him. Carefully, I make my way to him and sit, and before I know what is happening, I feel him slump into me. Mindful of the plummet I could take if I let him make me careless, I throw a leg over the side and pull him against me. Somehow, this feels uncharacteristically stupid, even for him. At the same time, it's kind of nice... He reminds me, in times of great stress, it's always nice to slow down and take a minute to remember that there are other things in life other than worrying.

_-X-X-X-_   
**Presently**   
_-X-X-X-_

Finally yanking him off the roof and back into the pit, he seems smug but less than usual. Maybe the rest of the glint in his eye is from silent satisfaction. Or, maybe that's simply my own feelings... It isn't often we have moments like that, quiet ones where I enjoy his weight in my arms and occasionally roll my eyes when I hear a soft snore. I don't think he'll ever know how I feel, but it settles my heart that he at least shares parts of himself with me that others don't get to see.

“Put that _away_ , Thomas. Nobody here wants to see your pasty white ass.” I hear Charles grouse from another room. 

Because God knows everyone gets to see what he can show physically. 

“I's better 'an yers, Charlie Boy. Least mine don' make Grizzly Bears jealous.”

“No, but I'm fairly certain that big _mouth_ of yours does.”

“A'Cause they wanna piece o' this. God knows yer precious Haytham _loves_ it!” 

The crash in the other room suggests that Charles has had far too much bothering for one day, and likely attempted to throttle the poor boy. I suppose this is where William the Super Nanny comes in...


End file.
